Picking Up the Pieces
by Scooter Kitty
Summary: Mini series based. Everyone grieves differently. Lee tries to deal with his grief...Wow, bad summary. Sorry.
1. Default Chapter

1/17/04

PICKING UP THE PIECES

The port side hangar deck was a chaos of activity, as usual. Lee Adama paused for a moment to look around at the scurrying figures in their brightly colored coveralls. He had to be on patrol in a half hour, but his Viper had behaved oddly during his last couple of flights and he wanted the crew chief, Tyrol, to have a look at it. Glancing around, he didn't see Tyrol anywhere, but according to the duty roster, this was his shift. Lee spied a familiar face, although he couldn't quite remember her name. Cami? Or was it Callie? Whichever, he strode over to her and was relieved when she looked up at his approach, sparing him from the possible embarrassment of getting her name wrong while trying to get her attention.

"Where can I find Chief Tyrol?" He asked, after returning the smart salute she offered him.

The young woman looked very nervous.

"Oh, uh, I'm not really sure where he is at the moment, sir. He left the hangar deck a few minutes ago. I'm sure he'll be back shortly. Would you like me to track him down for you, sir?"

"Oh, no, thank you. It's nothing urgent. I can wait for him to return."

Lee wandered away from the girl to allow her to return to her duties. Looking around him, he noticed there was a supply storage room at the rear of the flight deck. Still trying to familiarize himself with the ship and curious about the state of spare Viper parts for the ship, he walked to the storage room and entered. He found himself immediately confronted with the sight of a semi-clad Lt. Valerii and Chief Tyrol locked in a very passionate embrace.

"Uh, sorry," Lee mumbled, embarrassed, as he backed quickly out of the room and shut the door.

Valerii and Tyrol were not the first such trysting couple that he had accidentally walked in on. In fact, it was happening more and more frequently. His father was going to have to make a decision about how to deal with this sort of thing and address his people, soon, before it got out of hand. With a sigh, he returned to where Callie, or Cami, was working. Maybe she could help him with this Viper.

* * *

After the door had closed behind the captain, Sharon and Tyrol stared at each other, in shock, for a moment. Then abruptly Sharon burst out laughing.

"Oh, well, I'm glad that you can find something funny about this," Tyrol said miserably. "We are so completely screwed."

"Why?" she asked, sobering slightly. "Most of the deck crews already know about us, as do most of the pilots. So, Capt. Apollo knows now, too. What's the big deal?"

"It's Apollo. That's the big deal. That guy is such a frakking prick that I'm sure he's off writing us up now, as we speak. I'll bet he just can't wait to run off and tell his daddy."

"Oh, please, Aaron, Apollo's not like that. He's not going to write us up. And even if he did, what could they really do to us? The Galactica's already massively undermanned. They need both of us."

"Yeah, well, I'm sure Apollo will find some way to get me thrown in the brig," Tyrol said sullenly.

"Why would he do that? What do you have against him?"

"He's a prick! You should have seen him when he first got here for the decommissioning ceremony. He acted like the whole thing was such a complete waste of his precious time, like he was too good for the likes of any of us. And you should have heard how disrespectful he was of the commander."

"That was before. In case you haven't noticed, things have changed. I think, Capt. Apollo's had a bit of a reality check since then. As for the stuff about the commander, from what Starbuck's hinted at, the two of them have had some issues that have nothing to do with the Galactica and are really none of anyone else's business. You know, father and son stuff. Apollo's a good guy, really. You should give him another chance."

"Why are you being so defensive of him? Should I be concerned? His last name is Adama, after all. And he is a Viper pilot, instead of a lowly deck crew chief. And he certainly fills out his flight suit nicely or so I hear," Tyrol said bitterly.

Sharon gave an exasperated sigh. "Tyrol, what is this? Where is all this coming from?"

His sudden flash of uncharacteristic jealousy left him just as quickly as it had flared up. He reached up to rub his face with both hands, as though trying to scrub the thoughts from his very skin.

"I'm sorry, Sharon," he sighed. "I don't know. I think it's the strain. It's making me edgy."

"I know, it's okay," she said, rubbing his upper arms comfortingly. "It's affecting all of us. Come on, let's go. We both have to get back to work."

The two lovers stepped cautiously back onto the hangar deck to find Apollo and Callie standing together on one of the deck crew's ladders. They had removed the top panel from the nose of Apollo's Viper and they were peering inside, deep in conversation. Sharon gave Tyrol a nudge in the ribs.

"See, I told you he wasn't writing us up."

He threw her an irritated look and said, "No, because he's too busy tearing apart one of my Vipers."

Hurrying forward, he called out, "Excuse me, but what seems to be the problem?"

Turning to face Tyrol, Lee said, "I've been having some problems with the control panel. Every now and then, I get these little shocks. It's nothing serious, but it's annoying. Obviously there's a short somewhere, but I can't find it."

"Here, let me have a look," Tyrol said, climbing the ladder.

The ladders were entirely too narrow for three people, so, without a word, the chief gently moved Callie out of his way. Throwing up her hands and rolling her eyes, she took the hint and climbed down. She went to stand beside Sharon to watch as the two men discussed the problem.

A few minutes later, dressed in her flight suit, her helmet tucked under one arm, Kara entered the hangar, ready for her patrol. Seeing Sharon and Callie standing together staring at something beyond her line of sight, she walked over to see what was going on. Joining them, she saw that they were watching chief Tyrol and Lee working on Lee's Viper. The two men were standing on one of the ladders and were bent over, working within the nose panel. As Lee reached further forward to adjust something, the range of his movement strained his flight suit slightly, tugging the fabric at the seat tighter across his firm backside, which was presented quite plainly to the three watching women.

"Oh, well, that's not an unpleasant sight," Kara commented.

"No, it's not," Sharon agreed.

"No, it's not," Callie echoed softly, her eyes rather wide.

Exchanging mischievous smiles with Sharon, Kara said, "You know, Boomer, I'm not entirely sure that she's of a high enough rank to be ogling a captain. What do you think?"

"I don't think so either. Isn't there something in the rulebooks about that?"

"Huh?" Callie gasped, turning a slightly panicked look at the two officers.

"Oh, relax, Callie, I'm just giving you flak," Kara laughed. "Trust me, any woman who didn't stop to admire that ass, is either blind or dead."

"Oh, definitely," Sharon agreed, nodding.

Kara turned to her fellow pilot and raised an eyebrow.

"My, what would Tyrol say?" she asked quietly.

"Hey, I'm just looking. There's no crime in that. And what about you?"

Kara smiled and gave a dismissive shrug. "It's like you called it. I'm just enjoying the view. Nothin' more to it."

Having located the elusive shorted circuit and made the necessary repair, Lee straightened and turned to climb down from the ladder, while Tyrol finished closing up the nose panel. Lee froze at the sight of the three women standing, staring in his direction.

"What?" he asked, suddenly suspicious.

"Nothing," Kara said, smiling smugly, while Sharon and Callie both mumbled equally evasive answers.

The two men exchanged puzzled looks.

"Women," Tyrol said with a shrug, as if this single word statement explained everything.

"So, Apollo, are we going on patrol or what?" Kara called.

"We're going, just a second."

"And men complain that women take forever to get ready," she said to the two other women.

* * *

"Hey, you're being awfully quiet over there. You haven't gone to sleep on me, have you?" Kara asked, her voice sounding slightly tinny and distorted over the wireless as she and Lee flew their patrol.

"I'm awake. Sorry, I've got a killer headache."

"Weren't you saying you had a headache yesterday?"

"Yeah, still have it."

"So, have you taken anything for it? You know, like sleep?"

"No, Ma'am, but I'll be sure to get right on that," Lee responded sarcastically.

"Smartass! … I do have to say that was pretty clever the way you sucked up to Tyrol like that."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, please, you could've fixed that short on you own. You didn't need Tyrol's help. You don't get to be a captain without knowing your way around your ship. I know you've been having some problems with Tyrol. So, you appealed to his professional vanity and played the stupid pilot who doesn't know his ass from a gymbol. I think it worked. Tyrol was a lot less frosty than usual to you."

"Was I that obvious?"

"Yeah, but like I said, I think it worked. You scored some points with Callie by asking her too, by the way."

"Callie! That's her name! I need to remember that."

"Yeah, you do. I think she's got a crush on you."

"Oh, Lords, no," Lee groaned.

"What? What's wrong with Callie?"

"Nothing. She's a very nice girl, but she's what, 18, 19?"

"Oh, that's right, I forgot. You prefer older women. Well, I guess, you'll just have to tone down the Adama charm around the younger, more impressionable, female crew members."

"Yeah, right. Too bad I can't seem to charm my own squadron."

"They're just hurting, Lee. They miss Ripper. He was a popular CAG. They see you as an outsider, trying to take his place. Give them some time, they'll get over it."

"Kara, I am an outsider, trying to take his place. Time isn't going to change that. And I don't have the time to try to be their buddy. I'm their CAG. I don't need them to like me. I just need them to respect me and my authority."

"Most of them do. There're only a few troublemakers. Unfortunately, the biggest troublemaker is also quite popular."

"Yeah, Dagon. Is there something in particular that he hates about me or did I kill his dog in another life or something?"

"No, I think, it's just that he was good friends with Ripper. I think he resents you for living and not Jackson."

"Oh, that's comforting. So, you're saying that the only way I can appease him is to die? Great."

"Don't worry about Dagon. Just keep doing your job well and be yourself. The others will come around to you and as they do, Dagon will lose his influence. Just give them some time, Lee."

* * *

"There've been 23 reported incidents of inappropriate fraternization, 14 fistfights, 11 incidents of gross insubordination, and 3 attempted suicides," Col. Tigh said, reading the list of infractions to the commander. "Something is going to have to be done, soon, before all semblance of discipline falls apart."

"Compared to what's happening on the civilian ships, this is nothing," Adama said. "We all just had our worlds destroyed, our entire families killed off. It's going to take some time for everyone to assimilate that kind of grief. And everyone grieves differently. But, yes, you're right. We can't allow that to interfere with the functioning of this ship. Leave the list of names and I'll talk with the ship's counselor again and see if she has any suggestions for how to handle this."

Tigh laid the sheet of paper on the cluttered desk and said, "Speaking of handling things, how are you holding up? When's the last time you got any sleep?"

"Oh, I got a whole three hours last night," the other man said with a grin. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine. What about you?"

"I'm holding up. But I'm not the one that everyone immediately runs to when there's a problem. That would be you. Do me a favor and get some sleep."

"I'll work on that."

* * *

Pain. White-hot, searing pain, like a fire poker was being shoved between his eyes. For a moment the hangar deck seemed to tilt radically and Lee had reach out and steady himself against his Viper, waiting for the blinding pain to pass. Eventually it always did.

"Captain Apollo, are you all right, sir?"

Lee looked up to see Tyrol watching him in some concern.

"Oh, uh, yes, I'm fine. Just tired, but thank you, Chief."

"You should get some sleep, sir. You don't look very good."

"Yes, I'll do that."

Lee glanced over and was relieved to see that Kara was still occupied with her ship and had not noticed his stumble. The last thing he needed was someone else fussing over him. And she would be a lot harder to put off than Tyrol. Giving the bridge of his nose a pinch to try and distract himself from the pain, Lee moved to join her.

"That headache still bothering you?" she asked, seeing his movement.

"Yeah, but it's all right. I'm off duty now, so I can get some sleep," he said dismissively.

Glancing around, he noticed that they were the only two pilots on the hangar deck. They should have passed the two pilots who would be taking their places on the patrol, on their way in, but they hadn't. Those two pilots, at the very least, should have been on deck getting ready to launch. The starboard hangar was still being reconverted from gift shop to working hangar deck, so no one would be launching from that side. But there was no one. There were two Vipers standing by, ready to go, but no pilots.

"Aren't Saxon and Istar supposed to be out on patrol next?" Lee asked Chief Tryrol.

"Uh, yes, sir," the petty officer responded. "We've got their Vipers ready to go, but, so far, neither has shown up."

"Is that right," Lee said tightly. Turning on his heel, he headed off the hangar deck at a fast walk. Kara hurried to catch up to him.

"Well, I think someone's about to get their ass chewed out," Tyrol commented to no one in particular.

* * *

The squadron ready room was fairly crowded. It was still early evening, so many of the pilots had gathered to socialize for a few hours before heading to bed. Much of the conversation stopped as Lee and Kara entered. After a quick scan of the room, Lee determined that the two missing pilots he was seeking were not present.

"Where are Saxon and Istar?" he asked, to the room in general.

Many exchanged uncomfortable glances and shuffled about self-consciously, but no one offered an answer to the question. Lee was about to repeat himself when the hatch to the room opened and Lt. Rayna "Istar" Caspan poked her head in.

"Hey, can someone help… Oh, Captain Apollo!" she squeaked noticing her commanding officer. "Oh frak!" she added under her breath.

Rayna was a petite brunette rookie, fresh from the Viper Training Program. She looked much younger than her 24 years. Although only a few years older than her, Lee felt ancient just looking at her.

"Why aren't you out on patrol?" he asked the young woman. "And where is Lt. Carver?"

With a resigned sigh, Rayna said, "Saxon's drunk, sir. I stuck him in the showers, hoping to sober him up, but it's not working."

The skull-splitting headache that had finally begun to recede came roaring back with a vengeance. Lee closed his eyes and tried to simply concentrate on his breathing. It was taking all of his willpower to keep from becoming physically ill.

After a moment, he opened his eyes and spoke very quietly and very calmly, "Report to the hangar deck and get your ship ready for patrol. I will be sending another pilot to join you momentarily."

"Yes sir … Um, what about Saxon?"

"I will deal with Lt. Carver. You, just go."

With a quick salute, the woman ducked out the hatch, not even waiting to see if her salute had been returned. She was just grateful to be escaping. She had never seen the new CAG look so angry. He was usually pretty decent, a little cool and distant, but generally courteous. But she had seen the icy fire in his blue eyes and heard the deadly calm tone of his voice and, frankly, it had scared her a little.

Lee turned to address the remaining pilots.

"I need someone to take Carver's place on patrol, any volunteers?"

The silence was deafening.

"No, of course not," Lee said bitterly. "Fine."

He looked around at the assembled faces. With his disposition verging on homicidal and his head pounding as it was, he was in no mood to try and hunt someone else down, so that meant that someone in this room was going to have to cover the patrol. Unfortunately, most of them were rookies. He didn't like to pair up two rooks if he could help it, and definitely not when one of them was Caspan. Of the more experienced pilots present, many had just recently come from patrol or a duty shift. His eyes fell on Dagon seated in a far corner.

"Horus," Lee called out, "suit up, you're taking Saxon's place."

There was a slight pause before Dagon drawled back, "No, I don't think so."

"Excuse me?"

"No, I don't think so… sir."

"Are you refusing a direct order, Lieutenant?"

"Why, yes, I am," Dagon said, standing and moving closer to the captain. "You see, sir, according to fleet regulations, every pilot is supposed to have 12 hours of rest after every 6 hours of flight time. My last patrol was 11 hours ago. So, I still have an hour of rest coming to me."

"Under normal operating conditions that would be true," Lee said, his voice still deadly calm. "But, in case it's escaped your notice, these are hardly normal operating conditions. I shouldn't have to remind you that the Galactica is desperately short of pilots. Since she was about to be decommissioned, she didn't have a full complement to begin with and that was before the Cylon attacks. Now, I know that I have flown 3 patrols in the last 36 hours, so pardon me, if I find your excuse a little lame. Everyone else is doing their part. Now it's your turn. Suck it up and get your ass down to the flight deck. Istar is waiting for you."

"Look, I don't care if you feel the need to prove you're some kind of superhero by flying all these patrols, but I'm not that stupid. Any minute, the Cylons could attack us. I want to be well rested for that fight. Sorry, but I'm not leaving the Galactica until I absolutely have to."

"Look, Lee, I'll take the patrol. I'm not tired. It's no big deal," Kara offered. She had spoken softly, but her voice still sounded harsh in the tense silence.

"No, Kara," Lee said, pointing back at her, though his eyes never left Dagon's. "You've flown your share of double patrols these past few days as well. No, Lt. Dagon will be flying this patrol."

As he had made this last statement, Lee had stepped closer to the other man, still glaring intently into his eyes. Kara felt an intuitive flutter in the pit of her stomach. She really did not like the way this conversation was progressing. Alex "Horus" Dagon was a tall, well-muscled individual. Lee Adama, on the other hand, was just on the shorter side of average and, while well toned, his build was much more compact.

The punch was delivered so fast that Kara never really saw it, she only saw Lee stagger back, one hand covering his mouth. When he took his hand away, there was blood smeared across his palm. His lip was split and more blood continued to slowly ooze down his chin. It took every once of her self-control to keep from rushing Dagon and punching his face in, but she knew that this was Lee's fight. If he was going to have any authority at all with his squadron, he was going to have to handle this on his own. But standing by and not getting involved was one of the hardest things she ever had to do.

To her amazement, Lee simply wiped the blood on the leg of his flight suit. Turning back to Dagon, he said, very quietly and very slowly, "Get down to the hangar deck, now."

The taller man gave a short bark of a laugh. His sudden agitated demeanor was a striking contrast to Lee's calm.

"Or what?" Dagon yelled. "You're going to get in my face some more? You're going to tell your daddy? As I see it, those are about your only options…sir. As you already said, the Galactica is desperate for pilots. They can't afford to throw me in the brig or ground me. And if they want to bust me down a rank, they can go right ahead. I don't care anymore! It's not like my career means anything anymore! Hell, it's not like anything means anything anymore! So, you go right ahead, Adama. Do your worst!"

If it was possible, Lee's punch was delivered even faster than Dagon's had been. It was certainly harder. Lee had thrown all of his body weight into it and the larger man went sprawling back against the table behind him, blood pouring from his nose.

Turning to address two stunned pilots standing near Dagon's unmoving form, Lee snapped, "Get him cleaned up, get him into his flight suit, and get him into his Viper. I don't care if you have to carry him. He is flying that patrol!"

"Yes, sir!" was their immediate response.

Not waiting to see if his orders were carried out, Lee turned on his heel and started toward the hatch. Finding Kara still standing in front of it, he said, "Go down to the showers and make sure that Saxon hasn't drowned himself, then pour him into bed. I'll deal with him in the morning, very early in the morning."

"Yes, sir," Kara said softly, stepping aside to allow him access to the hatch.

* * *

Lee sat on the bed in his room, messaging his temples. In the aftermath of the adrenaline rush from the brief fight, he felt shaky, nauseous, and his head was pounding worse than ever. His right hand was also throbbing quite painfully, almost, but not quite, enough to distract him from the pain in his head.

This is so not good, he thought. There is never any reason to justify striking another officer, or enlisted man, or anyone, for that matter. I've been hanging around Kara too much. She's a bad influence. Oh, who am I kidding? This is no one's fault, but my own. Dad's going to kill me, and with good reason. I behaved like a first year cadet. I have no right to call myself an officer.

He was sitting in the dark, in the small office/bedroom that housed the ship's CAG. Until very recently that had been Capt. Jackson "Ripper" Spenser, who was now dead. All of Spenser's personal effects were still there, as was his unfinished paperwork. Lee didn't have the heart to remove or touch anything. Hell, he couldn't even bring himself to sleep in the bed. At night, he just pulled the blankets off and slept on the floor. That is, when he slept at all, which wasn't often.

He knew it wasn't healthy. In fact, it was down right dangerous, as Lt. Dagon had so infuriatingly pointed out. Tired pilots are careless pilots. The Galactica couldn't afford any careless pilots right now. He knew he should get some sleep. His body was screaming for it, but every time he closed his eyes to try, he saw the faces of those who had died. His mother, her fiancé Marcus, who had always been kind and patient with Lee, old friends from the academy, his precious few former lovers, and his former shipmates on the Solaria, the ship that, if not for his father's unwelcome interference, he would have gone down with. It was their faces that haunted him the most. He should have been there, with them. If he had, perhaps… He knew, consciously, that it was ridiculous to think that his presence alone could have made a difference, but subconsciously, his mind still played those obsessive games of what-if.

Survivor's guilt. Even recognizing it for what it was, did not prevent his mind from traveling down those same well-worn paths. Lee did not handle grief well. He had learned that painful lesson with Zac's death. As a Colonial officer, it had been drilled into him that he was to never give up, never surrender. Now he was expected to simply let go of Zac and all the others? It was a mental shift he didn't seem capable of making.

Anger was such an easier emotion to deal with than acceptance. It was one that he was well acquainted with and his father had always been the easiest target for that emotion. Perhaps because his father had never fought back, had never even tried to defend himself against it. He had always just taken Lee's anger with silent acceptance. Didn't that seem to imply a guilty conscience?

So, when Zac had died Lee had blamed his father. Despite the fact that he knew the older Adama was hurting just as much as everyone else and had certainly not intended for his youngest son to die, it had just been so much easier to get angry. And anger was so much easier to sustain when it had a target to focus on. And it was so much the better when that target was a compliant and stationary one.

But now, in the wake of the Cylon attacks, Zac's death seemed rather insignificant. It was just one more source of pain amongst all the other billions. And Lee couldn't blame his father for those deaths, no matter how much he might want to try. And he realized that he really didn't want to try. He didn't want to be angry with his father anymore. It was hard to hate the man when he was all the family Lee had left. He was tired of being angry. He had spent two years of his life being angry and he was just so, so very tired…

He didn't remember falling asleep, but he must have, because when the knock on his door came, he bolted upright and back to full awareness from a prone position on the bed. He didn't remember lying down either.

"Come in," he called out, trying to calm his racing heart and think through the pounding in his head.

The hatch swung open and light and noise from the pilots' general quarters beyond flooded into the room. Kara stepped inside hesitantly.

"Lee? Can I turn the light on?" she asked.

"Yeah, go ahead."

With the harsh glare of the overhead lights on, Kara didn't like what she saw. She had obviously woken Lee from a deep sleep, which she knew quite well he had gotten precious little of these past few days. He looked like death warmed over. He was still in his flight suit, which was not the most comfortable garment ever designed, his short, dark hair was rumpled and there was still dried blood on his lower lip, which was slightly swollen and beginning to bruise.

"Uh, I'm sorry I woke you up," she said. "But the commander wants to see you in his quarters."

"He knows already?"

"You know, I've suspected that the man is psychic for years now. But, then again, in this instance, there were quite a few people on the flight deck when Crush and Speed dragged Horus down there. By the way, they think you might have broken his nose."

Oh, fabulous, Lee thought wryly, that's the way to endear yourself to your squadron, physically abuse them. What the hell, if you can't join them, beat them, literally.

"Thanks, Kara. I guess I'd better get going then. Wouldn't want to keep the Old Man waiting for his chance to ream me out," Lee said, standing and starting towards the door.

"Uh, you might want to get cleaned up first," she suggested as he moved to pass her. "At least wash the blood off your face."

"It's a little late to try and hide the evidence now, don't you think? Besides, I'm too tired. I just want to get this over with."

* * *

Lee stood rigidly at attention in front of the commander's desk. He hadn't been this nervous about seeing his father since the time he had gotten suspended from his secondary school for fighting. He had discovered that two older, larger, boys had been harassing Zac and he had dealt with them. Unfortunately he had gotten caught doing so. His father had been furious. It was one of the few times that Adama had ever yelled at his eldest son. Of course, Lee had not mentioned Zac's situation in connection with the fight, not wishing to embarrass his brother.

Now, William Adama sat behind his cluttered desk, reading a report and, for the moment, ignoring his son and CAG. Col. Tigh sat in the background, at the foot of the commander's bed. The executive officer was smirking slightly, evidently finding some hidden amusement with the tableau before him.

After several long minutes, Adama looked up and said, "At ease, Captain."

Lee gratefully shifted to a parade rest stance; feet set wide, hands clasped at the small of his back. He focused his eyes at a spot on the far wall, an inch or two above the top of his father's head. Adama leaned back in his chair, the fingers of both hands pressed together in front of his chest, and tried to regard the young man in front of him as dispassionately and objectively as he could.

"Why don't you tell me what happened in the squadron ready room earlier this evening, Captain."

"Yes sir. It's quite simple, really. I gave Lt. Dagon an order. He refused to obey that order. I struck him."

"That's it? There's nothing more you'd like to tell me?"

"No sir."

"What happened to your lip? Cut yourself shaving, did you?"

"Uh, no sir, but that was no excuse for my behavior. I take full responsibility f-."

"Yes, you take full responsibility for your actions," Col. Tigh interrupted. "Of course, you do. You're an Adama. Except that no one is asking you to fall on your sword, Captain."

"Sir?"

"I think what Saul is trying to say is, 'relax, Lee, you're not in any trouble.' Obviously, this isn't a formal XO's mast," Adama said with a smile.

"But I struck a fellow officer…"

"Who was being grossly insubordinate and hit you first. Frankly, considering the strain we're all under, I can't honestly say that I wouldn't have done the same thing. I didn't bust Kara down for striking a superior officer. I'm certainly not going to bust you for striking a junior, and insubordinate, one. No, I'm afraid that not all of the old rules are going to apply anymore. We're just going to have to deal with things as they come. Now, as to Lt. Dagon, I will deal with him personally."

"Yes sir."

"There is something else… Tell me, Captain; is it true that you have flown 3 patrols in the last 36 hours?"

"… Yes sir."

Adama leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desk and gaze intently at his son over the top of his glasses.

"That stops, now," he said sternly. "Do I make myself clear? I don't want careless pilots."

"Yes sir."

"And let's get something else clear right now, Captain. Just because I let this incident slide this time, let's not go making a habit of brawling in the ready room. Please, feel free to pass that on to Lt. Thrace, as well."

"Yes, sir," Lee said, relief flooding his body.

"Now, as long as I have you here, I want to talk to you about the patrols. I have some ideas…"

The commander continued talking, but Lee wasn't really listening anymore. The words washed over him, but had ceased to have any coherent meaning. He had been so prepared for a confrontation with his father, something emotionally charged and potentially messy, but there had been nothing. He had gotten through it with nothing more than a mild reprimand for overtaxing himself. Standing there, he felt weak-kneed and shaken. No, not shaken, but shaking, he corrected himself as he realized that his entire body was trembling visibly.

He was suddenly incredibly cold and he could not stop his body from shivering. He hugged his arms around himself in an attempt to get warm and stop the shakes, but it didn't help. He glanced up to find his father standing very close and looking very concerned.

"Lee, are you alright?"

He could hear his father's words, but they were faint, as if he was hearing them from a great distance. He was also aware that his father was grasping his shoulders, but Lee only felt it as a slight pressure. He wanted to speak, to tell his father that he was okay, but he couldn't seem to coordinate his body enough to form the words.

It was as if his mind was slowly detaching itself from his body. Darkness was starting to creep into the edges of his vision, rapidly tunneling it down to nothing. He felt a vague sense of disorientation, then nothing at all...

To be continued...


	2. part 2

2/3/04

PICKING UP THE PIECES

Part 2

"What the hell is going on? What did you do to Lee?" Kara demanded as she stormed into the waiting area of the Life Station.

Adama turned to look at the visibly agitated young woman, but before he could offer any response to her questions, she went on.

"And what is up with Tigh? He comes down to the ready room and tells me that I'm taking over CAG duties until further notice. When I asked why Lee wasn't doing them. All he would say was that Lee had been taken to the Life Station. No explanation, no details, nothing! Who does that? Does the man even know the definition of the word tact?"

"Tigh didn't give you any details about Lee because we don't have any yet. Dr. Salik is still with him."

Kara's irritation with the Galactica's XO abruptly evaporated as she saw the obvious strain on Adama's face and heard the weariness in his voice. And, calmer now, it belatedly occurred to her that she had no business speaking to her commanding officer in such a tone and she was thankful that there were no witnesses to her insolence.

"What happened?" she asked quietly. "I know he had a headache earlier, but he seemed okay."

"Yes, he seemed fine when he first came into my office," Adama agreed. "Tense and a little nervous, but that's to be expected, under the circumstances. Then he started shivering, like he was cold, but it's not particularly cold in my office. I could tell from the expression on his face that something was wrong. And then, he just collapsed. That was about an hour ago."

"An hour? What's taking Salik so long to figure out what's wrong with him?"

"They've been running a lot of tests. Salik has no medical history to work with. Lee was only supposed to be assigned to the Galactica for a few days. There was no reason to transfer his records over from the Solaria."

Kara moved to sit on the padded bench beside Adama. The crews of the Galactica had always affectionately referred to him as the Old Man, but never had she seen him resemble that nickname as much as he did now. The dark circles under his eyes made them look bruised and his shoulders were slumped and heavy. It grieved her to see this man, whom she had always thought of as unbreakable, look so fragile. She reached out and laid her hand on his forearm and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Glancing up, he rewarded her with a wan smile. They sat and waited in comfortable silence.

It was only another quarter of an hour before Dr. Salik entered, but to Kara it had seemed like an eternity. She had no idea how Adama had been able to remain sane for an entire hour. She and the commander both stood as the doctor walked into the waiting area.

"Well?" Adama asked.

"Capt. Adama is suffering from complete, physical exhaustion. A side effect of which, is a lowered immune system. This has left his body vulnerable to viral attack. He is running a high fever and his body simply shut down. The good news is, that according to the tests I've run, aside from the virus, there are no signs of further complications."

"Is he going to be alright? How long does he have to stay here?"

"Unfortunately, other than treating him with antibiotics and fever reducers, there's really not much I can do for him. Now, normally I would prefer to keep him for a day or two, or until the fever breaks, but right now, with all the sick and injured from the civilian ships that I'm dealing with, in addition to our own wounded, I really can't spare the bed. He doesn't need constant supervision, but he does need someone monitoring that fever. I can supply the meds, but I need someone to make sure that he's taking them and to make sure that the fever doesn't spike.

"But I am also hesitant to have him return to the pilots' general quarters. I know, as CAG, he has a private room, but it's still too noisy and crowded, and there's too much likelihood that he would be disturbed. What he needs is a quiet place where he can get some sleep and plenty of it. Any suggestions?"

"Actually, yes, I do have one."

* * *

Within the hour, Dr. Salik and two of his orderlies had Lee settled in the commander's quarters. The captain had not awoken during the transfer and Adama was grateful. He was sure that if Lee had known where he was being transferred to, he would have put up an argument. Adama had made arrangements with Col. Tigh, so that the two men would work opposing shifts as much as possible, so that the commander could spend more time away from the CIC. Adama and Kara would also work opposing shifts so that one of them could always be in the room with Lee. Hopefully this situation would only last for a few days before Lee's fever broke and he was back on his feet or, at least, could be moved back to his own quarters.

Dr. Salik had left very strict instructions before he left. Adama was to closely monitor Lee's temperature. If it spiked up above 41 degrees (that's Celsius, btw), he was to notify the doctor immediately. He was to administer meds every 4-6 hours to keep the fever down and he was to administer as much fluids as the patient would tolerate. Salik had debated putting an IV in, but decided that it was unnecessary at this point.

Now, with everyone gone, Adama sat at his desk staring at this paperwork. It was late and he knew that he really should get some sleep. With Lee in the room's only bed, Adama would be sleeping on the long, leather couch that was built into one of the bulkhead walls of his room. It wouldn't be the first time that he would have spent the night there, just the first time he would do so intentionally. It was actually quite comfortable.

He leaned back in his chair and glanced over to the bed. Lee had still not woken up yet. Dr. Salik had said that this was not a cause for concern, yet, but Adama was still anxious. He had never seen his eldest son look so defenseless. Hell, he had never seen Lee ill before. He knew that, of course, Lee had had the usual childhood illnesses, but he had never been home at the time to deal with them. He had always been away on duty.

He was finding it oddly difficult to deal with this confirmation of his eldest son's mortality. Even when everyone had thought Lee dead, destroyed along with Colonial One during the Cylon attacks, it hadn't truly seemed real. There had just been small, lighted blips on a computer screen. And he had had so many other things to deal with at the time that, although the presumed explosion had shocked and upset him, it hadn't truly registered.

But actually seeing Lee so vulnerable now, he could not deny that his son was mortal and, so long as the fever remained high, not yet completely out of the woods. Even despite having lost Zac, Adama had never really considered the possibility that Lee could also die. Adama had never worried about Lee the way he had Zac. Lee had always been the stronger brother, physically and psychologically. Even as a small child, he had displayed an almost alarming level of maturity and self-assurance.

Adama remembered when Lee had been a baby, shortly after they had brought him home from the hospital. There were times when Adama would stand over his son's crib and simply watch him. The infant would calmly return his father's stare and it had always seemed to the man as if all the wisdom of the universe was contained right there, within the depths of those wide, blue eyes. Adama remembered feeling incredibly helpless and overwhelmed at the thought that he was supposed to be responsible for this tiny, mysterious and complicated being. And despite his wife's assurances that it would, that feeling had never seemed to go away.

It had been different with Zac. With three years of parenting under his belt, Adama had felt much more confident with Zac. And Zac had always made his job as a father so much easier. Zac had frequently sought out his father's help and/or advice. Lee had not, preferring to handle his problems on his own. And while Adama had always been proud of it, Lee's almost defiant independence had often left his father feeling inadequate and unnecessary. It was with much discomfort that Adama realized that perhaps, because of these things, he had given up on his elder son, telling himself that Lee did not need a father, just a guardian to look after him and ensure that the child did not inadvertently get himself killed before reaching maturity. So, instead, he had concentrated most of his paternal attentions on the much more receptive Zac.

I have made so many mistakes with Lee, Adama thought despondently. And instead of trying to fix them, I always just told myself that I wouldn't repeat them with Zac. Ilya had tried to warn me that I would one day regret those mistakes, but as usual, I didn't listen.

He remembered an evening several years ago, when he had been home on one of his extended leaves. It had been during the semester break at the boys' secondary school. The boys' grades for the previous semester had arrived in the mail that day. Zac had earned his usual A's and B's. Lee, who generally got straight A's, had one, lone, glaring B, in physics, a subject he normally excelled at. Adama had not been pleased and he had given his first born a lengthy lecture about the importance of grades when applying for entrance to the Officer's Training Academy. Lee had responded by pointing out that it was entirely possible that he would not even be going to the Officer's Training Academy and had angrily stormed out of his father's study.

Ilya, who had been sitting by, silent and unhappy, during the heated exchange between father and son, sighed and said, "Why do you always push him so hard? You don't push Zac like that."

"Lee is strong. He needs to be pushed. He needs to be challenged in order to be motivated. Zac is different. He's not as confident. He needs more encouragement. A good officer recognizes how to get the best out of his warriors. I know what I'm doing."

"Listen to yourself, William! These are not your warriors. These are your sons. And if you keep pushing Lee the way you do, eventually you are going to push him away completely."

But in his arrogance, Adama had not listened to his wife's advice, not yet realizing how prophetic her words had been.

A soft, low moan brought him back to the reality of the present and Adama turned toward the bed. Lee was stirring at last. Moving to his son's side, Adama saw that the younger man's eyes were unnaturally bright with the fever and he seemed confused and disoriented. Dr. Salik had warned Adama that Lee might show signs of delirium and not to be too concerned.

"Where's Mom?" Lee asked, his voice sounding small and very young.

"Sh-she's-." Adama had to stop and clear his throat, which suddenly felt painfully tight. "She's downstairs with Zac," he said softly.

Lee accepted this response without question. He nodded slightly and started to drift back to sleep, but Adama gently shook him awake again.

"No, no, Lee, I need you to sit up for minute, just for a minute."

The commander helped his son up to a sitting position. The doctor had left several bottles of a glucose-electrolyte maintenance solution. Adama opened one and handed it to Lee.

"I need you to drink this. As much of it as you can."

Dutifully, but half-heartedly, Lee took the bottle and sipped the clear liquid. While he did so, Adama took the small, electronic thermometer that Dr. Salik had also left and inserted it gently into his son's left ear. The device was designed to take a core body temperature reading from the tympanic membrane located within the ear canal. After several seconds the device gave a soft beep. Adama removed it and read the display, 40.6 degrees (105 F), still high, but not enough to warrant summoning the doctor.

Taking a vial of pills, he shook two of the small, white tablets into his hand. Placing them in one of Lee's hands, Adama said, "I want you to take these. They'll help keep the fever down."

Lee nodded and obediently swallowed the pills with a mouthful of the electrolyte solution. He handed the bottle back to his father.

"May I go back to sleep now, sir?"

"Yes, you may," Adama said, smiling at his son's formality. When he was younger Lee had often sarcastically spoken to his father in an overly formal military style. He had always done it purely to irritate his father, but this time, Adama hadn't sensed any sarcasm.

He helped the younger man get settled back into a comfortable position. Lee was asleep long before his father had finished fussing with the blankets to his satisfaction.

* * *

By late afternoon of the next day, Adama was ready to climb the walls. He was thoroughly sick of paperwork, not that he'd made much of a dent in it. He found himself calling up to CIC at least once every hour to check on things, but so far everything seemed to be running fairly smoothly. He didn't know whether to be glad or concerned that no one seemed to be missing him.

"Just think of it as some well-earned time off," Tigh had told him. "Relax, get some sleep."

But after a full night of sleep, the commander felt rejuvenated and was antsy to get back to work. He glanced at his watch. He still had another hour and a half before Kara would come to relieve him. Having never had to care for a sick person before, Adama had assumed that he would be playing a much more active role in the healing process, when he had volunteered for the job. But so far, there had been very little for him to do. For the most part Lee simply slept. Occasionally, he would wake long enough to use the room's bathroom facilities, drink more of the electrolyte solution, take more meds, and go back to sleep. And while his fever was still high, so far, it had not risen any higher.

Quite frankly, concern for his son aside, William Adama was bored. He had not had such a long period of forced inactivity in a very long time and he simply did not know what to do with himself. He had begun pacing about the room as a means of distracting himself with movement, but since the room was fairly small, this activity was hardly satisfactory. He was about to take another turn around the room, when his attention was drawn to a knock on the hatch.

"Come in," he called.

The hatch opened and Col. Tigh entered, bearing several reports.

"Is everything alright in CIC?" Adama asked.

"Yes, everything's fine. I just thought I'd come down and see how you were holding up. Are you bored yet?"

"You don't know the half of it."

"That's what I thought. Here, I brought you some more paperwork. Just what you wanted, right?"

With a rue smile, Adama accepted the sheets and began flipping through them. While he did, Tigh walked over to the bed and looked down at the sleeping figure. Lee had wrapped the blankets tightly around his body, creating a sort of cocoon for himself. The only part of him that was visible was a small tuft of dark hair.

"He can breathe in there, can't he?" Tigh asked.

Looking up, Adama smiled and shook his head. "He's always slept like that, even when he was a child. Ilya was always worrying that he would accidentally smother himself, but she could never seem to stop him from doing it, no matter how tightly she made the beds… Tell me something, Saul, do you ever regret not having had children?"

"Knowing what I know now about the fate of the world, no, I don't. But, I know what you're asking, and yeah, sometimes I think it would've been kind of nice to have had a daughter. You know, someone with Dinah's eyes and smile, and my Viper skills. Of course, with my luck, she'd have turned out to be just like Kara Thrace, mouthy and undisciplined. No, it's probably all for the best anyway. We both know I'd have been a terrible father."

"Well, you couldn't have done any worse than I did."

"What are you talking about? You had two terrific sons!"

"I'm not really sure how much credit I can take for that. Ilya did most of the work. I was rarely ever around."

"Oh, I don't know, both those boys were good warriors. Lee is proving himself to be a damn fine CAG and a pretty decent pilot to boot. And, from everything that I saw, Zac had the makings of a good officer. Somehow I don't think Ilya did all that by herself."

"Maybe not, but I'm still not sure how much was my doing. Lee is a born leader. From the time that he learned to walk, he's been going his own way and doing his own thing. And as for Zac, Lee taught him to ride his bike. Lee helped him with his homework, and Lee taught him to drive his first hovercar. Granted, I think Zac was only 12 at the time. No, Lee was a better father to Zac than I ever was."

"Yeah, but who showed Lee what a father was supposed to be?"

"Oh, probably Ilya's father. When the boys were younger they spent a lot of time with their grandfather. He was a Colonial officer as well."

Tigh sighed and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Fine, have it your way. I understand what you're trying to say, but I'll be damned if I'm going to feel sorry for you. You have no idea what a lucky son-of-a-bitch you are. Okay, so you made some mistakes with Lee. Well, guess what? You have the opportunity to fix those mistakes, an opportunity that everyone else in the fleet doesn't have. The Lords of Kobol have given you an incredible gift: 'here is the son that you screwed up with. Deal with him.'

"Will, no matter how long it takes, you do whatever you have to do. But you have to make things right with your son. You have to do it for all of us who now can't make things right with our loved ones."

Understanding the sorrow in his friend's voice, Adama put a hand on Tigh's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. When Tigh spoke again, his voice was somewhat huskier than usual.

"Lords, listen to me. I sound like a frakking priest."

"Well, not any more you don't," Adama chuckled. "But you are pretty good with the advice when you want to be."

"Yeah, now if I could just listen to my own advice once in a while, I'd be all set."

The moment was spared from becoming too emotional and awkward by another knock on the hatch door.

"Enter," the commander called out.

Kara stepped into the room, smiling brightly.

"So, are you going stir crazy yet?" she asked.

"You're early," Adama said. "I wasn't expecting you for another hour."

"Yeah, I got Boomer to cover the last hour of my shift. I kind of figured you'd be pretty bored by now."

"Thank you, Kara. You're an angel."

"Yeah, I am."

The commander took a few moments to gather up the reports and other papers that he would need for his shift in CIC and turned back to Kara.

"Alright, well, if he wakes up make sure to-."

"Give him some meds and some fluids and take his temperature, I know. I was here for Dr. Salik's lecture, remember? Don't worry, I've got it covered. Go on."

The two of them stood staring at each other for a moment. Ten minutes earlier Adama had been counting the seconds for his chance to escape the confines of this room, but now that his moment of freedom had arrived, he found himself reluctant to leave his defenseless son in the care of another, even Kara.

"Right, well, I'll come back in a couple of hours to check on you."

"Okay, that's fine. You do what you have to do. But in order for you to come back, you have to leave first."

"Come on, Will, let's get you up to CIC," Tigh said, taking the other man's arm and leading him out the door.

* * *

The next two days followed in much the same pattern. By the third day, Lee's fever broke and gradually he was able to stay awake for longer and longer periods. On the fourth day, he even managed a long, hot shower. Stepping out of the small bathroom, still toweling his damp hair, and wearing only a pair of loose, flannel pajama pants, he moved to sit on the bed. Although he felt more alert than he had in days, his body was still irritatingly weak and shaky. He could only stand for short periods before he got light-headed and his legs started quivering. But he was once again managing solid foods and Dr. Salik was confident that his strength would return quickly.

Glancing down, Lee noticed that his father had changed the linen on the bed while he had been in the shower. It felt wonderful to feel clean again and the fresh sheets would be like heaven. He knew he should thank his father, not just for the sheets, but for the past four days. But he wasn't accustomed to accepting help, particularly not from his father, and the words always seemed to stick in his throat. It was not that he wasn't grateful; he simply had no idea where to begin, so he just stayed silent.

"Uh, sir, I'm feeling much better now," he said finally. "I'm sure I could go back to my own quarters and get out of your way. At least, let you sleep in your own bed."

Adama looked up from his paperwork to gaze intently at his son. "And If I let you go back to your quarters are you going to promise me that you will not get involved in any of your squadron's petty squabbles? That you will sleep, no matter what noises you might hear outside your door?"

"Well, I'll try, sir."

"Not good enough. You're still running a slight fever and your body still needs sleep. I do not want you having a relapse. Get back in bed, Captain."

With a sigh, Lee obeyed. Adama smiled slightly as he watched his son climb into the bed. He felt a momentary flash of malicious joy at the thought that now it was Lee's turn to feel bored and confined.

Lee dozed off and on throughout the afternoon. Kara came down to relieve the commander sometime in the early evening. Not having any schedule to keep to and having had his watch taken away from him, Lee had long ago lost all notion of the time. Kara had entered the room with her usual strut, and seeing him awake and sitting up, had flashed him a wide grin.

"I come bearing gifts!" she said, cheerfully handing him the stack of papers she was carrying. "Paperwork! Your father said you were starting to get bored, so I thought that as long as you're just sitting around, at least you could be productive."

"Yeah and then you don't have to do it," Lee said dryly, taking the papers from her.

"Hey, he's quick!"

Giving his outstretched legs a light shove, she gestured for him to move over so that she could sit on the narrow bed beside him.

"Oh, don't mind me. I'm just convalescing here," he said sarcastically, but still scooted closer to the wall to accommodate her. "Please, make yourself at home."

"Don't I always?"

They sat in silence for a few minutes as he shuffled through the papers. At the bottom of the stack, he found something long, flat and rectangular-shaped, wrapped in plain brown paper. He had thought it was simply a clipboard, but he could now see that clearly it was not.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Well, open it and see."

Tearing the paper away, he found it was a name plaque for a door. It read, Capt. Lee Adama, Commander Air Group. He looked up at her confused.

"We took Ripper's name off the door," she explained. "We'll put this up tomorrow. A bunch of us also packed up all of Ripper's things. We even put clean sheets on the bed. Hopefully we exorcised all the ghosts at the same time. It's your office now."

"Thank you," he said softly, running his fingers lightly over the raised lettering on the plaque.

"Well, we probably should have done it sooner. And it really was our job to do and not yours. It sort of gave us a chance to say good-bye to him."

"So, what's the mood like down there?" Lee asked, almost afraid of hearing the answer.

"Pretty good, actually. Well, except for Horus. He's suddenly found himself on the outside, looking in. Everybody's pretty much avoiding him."

"Why?"

"Well, I guess, being mouthy and insubordinate is one thing, but evidently, punching the CAG is going just a little bit too far."

"Wait a minute, you punched Col. Tigh and they didn't turn on you."

"Of course not, everybody loves me!" Kara said dramatically. "And nobody likes Tigh. Besides, Tigh started that fight. He deserved to get punched. You didn't. You were just trying to do your job."

"So, they don't hate me?" he asked, still not quite daring to believe this.

"No, they don't hate you. In fact, most of them are feeling kind of bad about the way they were treating you. Of course, the fact that you got sick certainly helped your cause."

"It did?"

"Well, yeah, there's nothing like a guilt trip to sway public opinion. Now, I'm not saying that your job is suddenly going to be smooth sailing from here on, but I don't think anybody will be giving you too much flak anymore, at least not to your face, and certainly not when your hands are free."

"Yeah okay, drop it, already."

"No, no, this is great! I get to give you flak for a change. This is fun. I like this."

* * *

Some time later, Lee was awakened by the sound of soft knocking on the hatch door. Rubbing his face and sitting up, he glanced around. He was alone in the room. Wow, he thought, I could make a break for it. He pushed the thought aside. It wasn't as if he could really go anywhere.

"Come in," he called out.

Expecting to see Kara or Col. Tigh, Lee was surprised when President Roslin entered. She seemed equally surprised to see him.

"Oh, Capt. Apollo, I'm so sorry I disturbed your sleep. I know that you haven't been well. I was just looking for your father."

"It's all right. I'm feeling much better now. If you'd like I can give him a message for you."

"Oh, no, it's not urgent, I just…" Her voice trailed off and she seemed to lose her train of thought, as if she had become distracted by something.

Suddenly remembering that he was still not wearing a shirt, Lee felt a slight blush creep up his cheeks. Walking around shirtless in front of Kara and the other female pilots in general quarters was one thing, but doing it in front of Pres. Roslin was another. He glanced around for something he could quickly pull on, but there was nothing. His father hadn't even left a spare uniform shirt lying out. Lee pulled the blankets higher up on his chest self-consciously.

Seeing this movement, Laura smiled and said, "Please, Captain, don't feel you need to cover up on my account. You look fine just as you are."

Lee was horrified to feel his blush deepening. He had no idea how he was supposed to respond to that statement. If any other woman had made that comment to him, he would have been sure that she was flirting with him, but he just couldn't tell with Pres. Roslin. He could never seem to figure out what was going on in her mind. The half smile and the mischievous twinkle in her eyes seemed to indicate that she was only teasing him, so he relaxed slightly. Stepping further into the room and closing the hatch behind her, she seemed to come to some decision about something.

Moving closer, she gestured toward the foot of the bed. "May I sit?" she asked.

When he nodded, she settled herself gracefully on the bed. He watched as she automatically smoothed the back of her short skirt under her as she sat. He had become so accustomed to only seeing women in the asexual, loose-fitting uniforms and flight suits of the Colonial fleet, that he found himself admiring the purely feminine cut of her suit, as well as, the ample amount of leg that it displayed. He had to admit that for a woman who was probably old enough to be his mother, she had very nice legs.

"There was something that I wanted to discuss with your father," Laura said, her mention of the commander, bringing Lee jarringly back to the matter at hand. "But I think, perhaps, I'd rather have your opinion first."

"All right," he said, flattered that she would ask for his opinion.

"I'm thinking of asking your father to organize a presidential election. I feel that he should be the one to organize it, since he should not be allowed as a nominee. And well, let's face it, he's the only one who could enforce a fair election."

"Yes, but why even have one? Everything's running fairly smoothly, isn't it? Well, as smoothly as can be expected anyway."

"Yes, and no. There is a great deal of discontent on the civilian ships. The people are frightened and they feel helpless. Everything that has happened to them has been completely beyond their control. I think they're beginning to feel a little bit like herded sheep. That's a very demoralizing thought, don't you agree?"

"Yes."

"I think, that if the sheep were allowed to elect their own sheepdog, they might feel a little more in control, like they had more of a voice with the shepherd. I wasn't elected to this position. I got it by default. I think the people would have more confidence in someone that they had chosen themselves."

"I don't know that now is a good time for this. Everyone's still trying to get settled into their new roles."

"I understand that and I don't expect this to be done any time in the immediate future. But I know how your father likes to think about things, so I wanted to bring this to his attention now. You know, give him time to get used to the idea."

Lee chuckled at that. "Wow, you're taking a page right out of my mother's book. I couldn't tell you how many times I heard her say those exact words."

"Your mother must have had the patience of the Lords themselves."

"Oh, she did." He was silent for a moment before asking, "Are there even any candidates who could take your place?"

"There are a couple in the civilian fleet that I can think of, but if we made it known that this was in the works, I think more would step forward to distinguish themselves. There is one candidate that I think would have a pretty good shot at it, Dr. Baltar."

"Baltar?" Lee repeated.

"Yes, he's already well-known. He's ambitious and he's very charismatic."

Evidently Lee did not hide his look of disapproval as well as he had thought. Laura tipped her head off to one side as she regarded him speculatively.

"You don't like Dr. Baltar?"

"No, I don't," Lee said bluntly.

"May I ask, why not?"

He shrugged. "I don't really know. He's always got all the answers. A problem comes up. He's right there with the solution. It's all so…convenient. I don't trust him."

"You think he's hiding something?"

"I know he is. I just don't know what it is. Do you trust him, Madame President?"

"No, I don't," she said quietly. "But I do believe that if there were an election, he would run and he would be the candidate to beat."

"All the more reason to put off having an election as long as possible."

"Yes, well, that point could become moot, very soon."

For a moment a look of such profound sadness passed over her face that Lee was prompted to ask, "Is something wrong, Madame President?"

"No, nothing's wrong, Captain, nothing's wrong."

Her voice was soft and fragile, contradicting the denial of her words. She reached out a hand and laid it on his nearest leg, just above the ankle, and gave it a slight squeeze. He supposed that she had intended the gesture to be reassuring, but instead, he had a sudden impression of a person drowning and clinging to a lifeline. Their eyes met and, in a flash of insight, Lee knew that this impression was somehow accurate.

The strange intimacy of the moment was abruptly shattered as the door to the room opened and Commander Adama entered. He was clearly surprised to find President Roslin sitting on the bed with his half-naked son and touching his leg. Adama saw a look verging on panic momentarily flash across the president's face as she turned to face at him.

"Am I interrupting something?" the commander asked, perhaps a bit more brusquely than he had intended.

"Oh no, not at all," Laura said, getting quickly to her feet. "I had just stopped by to see how Capt. Apollo was feeling, but I don't want to overstay my visit and tire him out. So, I'll just be leaving now."

Turning back to Lee, she said, "I hope to see you on your feet again very soon, Captain. Have a good evening."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"What was that all about?" Adama asked, after the president had completed her hasty departure.

"I'm not really sure," Lee answered, uncertain of what he should tell the commander. Since the president had not brought up the idea of the election, he didn't think that it should be his place to do so. He would let her discuss it with his father in her own time.

"How are you feeling?" Adama asked.

"Better."

"Are you tired?"

Sensing some tension in his father's voice, Lee wondered why he was being so solicitous. "No, not really. I just woke up from a nap not too long ago."

"Good," Adama said, seating himself on the bed in the spot that Pres. Roslin had just vacated. "I think we need to talk."

Seeing that his father was quite serious, Lee nodded. "Yeah, I think we do."

END

Author's note: Yes, I know the story was a little rambly (if that's not really a word, it should be), but there were certain things that I wanted to cover as foreshadowing for possible upcoming stories, so please indulge me.


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